


Perfect Pirouette

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Ballet, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Platonic Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 22:08:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2084982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ballet academy AU fic.<br/>It's platonic Balletlock...if that even makes sense.<br/>Lots of Sherlock.<br/>Much Sherlock.<br/>Very Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect Pirouette

John's stomach clenched and small beads of perspiration formed on his brow. He couldn't believe that he was actually going through with this. He wasn't the best in his class, granted, but his teacher had said that with some training (which he had received for two months this summer) he had a chance. Also, the Academy had lost many talented young people this year, and would happily settle for...mediocre students to fill in the gaps. Or so his mother had said. John still didn't know whether to feel insulted or relieved. The sick feeling in his stomach was not subsiding, so he pushed the button to make the car window go down with a shaking hand. He stuck his head out of the window, and allowed the cool air to push his hair back.

"John! Get your head back in the car, we've almost arrived" said his mother loudly, as the car slowed down.

With a jolt, John opened his eyes to a huge Victorian building with magnificent iron gates barring access to it. The car wound up in front of a small booth, in which sat a jovial looking attendant.

"Here for the auditions maam?" he said, looking through the window to smile at her and John.

"Yes, my son John here is trying out."

"Well, good luck! You're the second people to arrive so there should be plenty of space to warm up."

"Great, thanks" replied his mother, and the gates creaked open.

The gravel crunched under the car as silence once again filled the gulf between the two people.

"Now, John. Don't be nervous. Just do your best. I know you love to dance, and this is best place to go for it. Your teacher certainly has confidence in you, and I know your father and I do as well. So go in there and show them how hard you've been training for the past two months."

John gave her a nervous grimace and looked out the window. An extensive garden with topiaries shaped like animals loomed on either side of the car, and a soft tinkle of water slipped into the car from a distant fountain. His mother's voice, remarking on the beautiful grounds and building, faded into the background as John once again began to contemplate the auditions. He was, as everyone kept reminding him, mediocre and not the best at dance. He would be laughed at by the other people trying out, they would mock his inadequate footwork and the fact that he couldn't quite pull off a full splits.

Well, at least they won't call you gay and corner you at break times demanding why you do ballet and not football, he thought grimly, shuddering as he remembered his last few days of Year 11. Suffice to say they had not been great.

After a few minutes the car had been successfully parked, and John got his bag out of the trunk. He double checked its contents- leotard, check. Ballet flats, check. Pointe shoes, check. Tights- oh fudge they're not there. He rooted desperately around his cotton bag, but to no avail. He had forgotten his tights. He winced as he imagined having to go on pointe without them. He would have bleeding feet again tonight. 

"Something wrong darling?" called his mother from the front of the car.

"Um, no nothing wrong! Just checking I had all the stuff I needed..." he decided quickly not to tell her that her had forgotten his tights. Bleeding feet and complete humiliation were better than the wrath of his mother.

"Come on then let's go!"

"Alright, coming, coming" he muttered as he slammed the boot down and followed her up some stone steps into the reception. It was very modern, contrasting the old look of the exterior, and the receptionist motioned for them to sit down on a comfy leather sofa. 

John tapped his feet, the sick feeling in his stomach intensifying greatly. Jesus he must be breeding a butterfly garden down there. The soft vanilla scent began to get to his head, and he swooned slightly. Everything was too bright. What the hell was he doing. There was no way he was going to be accepted into Doyle's Academy. It was single-handedly the best dance academy in the country. Only the best of the best are accepted. But then again, he had got past the first stage; sending in a couple of photos of yourself in certain poses. Maybe he wasn't that bad. But who was he kidding; he was no match for all the other participants. He was about to sprint out of the reception and flee the blasted place when a lady in a black suit came out of some double doors, and shook hands with his mother.

"Hello Mrs Watson! I'm Mrs Hudson, head of all things pastoral here at the academy. You must be John" she said warmly, giving John such a vivacious grin that he could do nothing but grin back at her. "Well I must say it's lovely to meet you. We had one other family in here before you, and they were rather... odd. Anyway, if you follow me I'll lead you to a warm up room, where you can get changed and get yourself ready. I'd say you have about an hour before the auditions start."

She led them through hundreds of cream, softly lit corridors before stopping in front of a door labelled 'Warm Up Room 2'. From the door next to them came the muffled noise of three or four voices.

"The other family are in there" she whispered and pointed to Warp Up Room 1. Then, she opened the door and led John into his room. It was quite small, but more than adequate to warm up in. There full length mirrors and bars covering every wall, and there was a small cubicle in the back where he could put his bags.

"Well then, I'll leave you two to get ready" she said, and made to go, when his mother interrupted.

"No, I'll come with you and wait in the reception. John does better warming up alone. I just bother him."

"Well okay then. John, good luck!"

"Yes, good luck darling" said his mother, nodding at him before exiting with Mrs Hudson.

He stood there listening to their voices recede into the distance until the only noise that remained was from the room next-door. Then, he walked over to the cubicle and placed his bag inside, getting out all his clothes.

Damn. I still don't have tights, he thought sourly, before he froze. The family in the next room over had entered the corridor.

"Mycroft how  _dare_ you speak to your brother like that, you know he's nervous-"

"Oh please mother, he was asking for it. I don't see why I had to be dragged along on this tedious journey anyway, I would have much rather stayed at home." 

"You know very well why you cannot stay at home again young man."

"It's not my fault the government officials wanted to speak to me-"

"Yes and it's not your fault that they wanted to take you away to MI16 or whatever-"

"MI6 mother."

"Yes that. Well I'm not having my 18 year old son getting into all of that undercover business. Get back to the car this instant."

All John could hear was venomous muttering as Mycroft left the hallway.

"Well alright Sherly dear-"

"Sherlock if you please."

"Don't be ridiculous. Anyway sweetie good luck, you'll be fine."

"Oh don't worry I know I will."

He heard her give him a kiss, and walk down the corridor, leaving it in silence once again. Then, the door to his warm up room opened, and he spun round to be faced with a boy who was a bit taller than him, with high cheekbones and curly black hair.

"Would be nice if you knocked" grunted John, eyeing this arrogant boy with dislike.

"Why would I knock don't be ridiculous. Oh, I see you need some tights, don't worry I have a spare. And with that he whipped out of sight, returning seconds later with a pair gripped in his hand. He threw them to John, who proceeded to awkwardly catch them.

"Thank you-?" he said hesitantly.

"I don't see why you couldn't just tell your mother though- oh hang on, I see why."

John's eyebrows rose up his forehead, and the boy laughed.

"Better leave you to warm up then" and he shut the door behind him.

After about a minute John began to move again. What had that all been about? And how could he possibly have known about the tights and more importantly his mother? He pondered these questions as he put on his uniform and began to stretch. Other families were arriving now, and soon the corridor was filled with the buzz of voices. After he felt adequately warmed up he proceeded to the bar, where he practiced a few basic exercises. Then, he put his pointe shoes on and warmed his feet up properly. He was in the middle of a pirouette when his door flew open, and caught by surprise his knee buckled and he fell to the ground. It was that boy again.

"Oops, sorry about that."

"You really should get into the habit of knocking you know. Ugh" he winced as he heaved himself up, his back aching slightly. But the boy appeared not to be listening. He bounced into the room and held out his hand. 

"Sherlock Holmes."

"John Watson."

They shook hands, John perhaps squeezing a bit harder than necessary. Sherlock appeared not to notice.

"That pirouette could've been a bit better-"

"Yes thank you for your opinion. Anything else you want to bother me with?"

"Oh. Well then. I see. That's what you get for being friendly" he muttered under his breath.

"Friendly? You call  _that_ friendly?" said John incredulously. "You barged in here  _without knocking,_ caused me to  _fall over,_ and now you tell me that my _pirouette could have been better_."

"Yes well, I do try." Sherlock looked at his feet, and a second later had left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Is he the same age as me, because he acts like a flipping four year old, thought John angrily, returning to his pirouettes with renewed vigour.

 

About half an hour later he heard Mrs Hudson's voice ring out through the hallway.

"Boys and girls, it's audition time!"

John's stomach was now at combustion point, and he caught sight of his face in the mirror as he left. It was practically green.

About fifty other students were standing outside their own rooms.

_Wow, only 50 other people got past the first round? I must not be as bad as I think I am._

Feeling slightly better about the whole situation, he followed the other people through the same creamy corridors until they reached a large holding area. There were two separate double doors facing them.

"You don't look too good, John. Feeling nervous?" whispered Sherlock as he came to stand next to him.

"Shut up" John snarled back, earning him a glare from Mrs Hudson. Shooting daggers at Sherlock he moved to the opposite side of the room, next to a pretty blonde girl in a bright red leotard. It was the only splash of colour in a sea of black. She gave him a nervous smile before saying,

"Hi, I'm Mary. Good to meet you. God I'm nervous."

Feeling relieved that not all the students were like Sherlock, he smiled back at her.

"Hell yes, so nervous I feel like I'm about to throw up all over Mrs Hudson's lovely black suit." She snorted at this, and grinned more warmly at him. Glancing down at her leotard, she gave a look of distaste.

"I can't believe I brought my red leotard instead of my black one. I can't flipping believe it. I look like an imbecile."

"I actually think it's quite refreshing" said John, and Mary blushed slightly. Not meeting her eyes, he looked up at Mrs Hudson who was preparing herself to speak.

"Well then guys, this is it. Only 35 of you will make it through to interview, and even then only 25 will actually get into the Academy" she said happily, clapping her hands. The students looked up at her, most looking like they wanted to either punch her or throw up on her. "However, you've all made it past the first stage, and you should all be very proud of yourselves. Anyway! Back to the current proceedings. You will be split into two groups, and each group will go through one of those doors. Sitting in there are a panel of about five professors here at the academy, and they will be testing you all. First it will be basic bar exercises, and then basic centre and corner exercises. There will then be the unseen exercise, and finally the pointe exercises. I'm sure you'll all do very well. Right, if you split down the middle like that, yes," she said, counting heads making sure there was an equal number on either side,"okay now you can proceed into the doors in front of you! Good luck!" 

The two groups surged forwards. John caught a glance of Sherlock going into the other room, and gleaned a small amount of satisfaction that he looked a little nervous. Mary looked like she was about to faint, and to his relief most of the other candidates did as well. The room was basically a larger version of his warm up room, minus the cubicle. A group of five stern adults were sitting at the end, none of them smiling. Taking a place at the bar, he breathed deeply.

_Here we go._

 

Two hours later, they all poured out of the rooms red faced and sweaty, positively gasping for breath.

"That...was...singularly...one of the hardest...practices.... I have ever done" John panted to Mary, as they followed Mrs Hudson back to their rooms.

"I...know" she replied, making an attempt to wipe the sweat off her face.

"Found it hard did you? Hm" came a cold voice from behind them, and John groaned as a pristine, non sweaty, non tired Sherlock emerged out of the crowd of people.

"Just ignore him" he muttered to Mary, as she stared at him in wonder.

"And you're saying you didn't find it hard?" she retorted.

"Not at all." And with that he glided back into his room and shut the door.

"Unbelievable" John said.

"Who the heck was that?" she said, still staring at the closed door.

"Someone you'll wish you had never met. Anyway, Mary, it was really nice meeting you. Hopefully see you in November!"

"Yeah, definitely! Bye!" she said waving, as she entered her own room.

John opened the door to Warm Up Room 1, and slumped onto the ground, cooling his head on the glass.

 _It didn't go that badly. The bar exercises were fine, I did make that one slip up though...the centre exercises could have gone better, they've never been my strong suit anyway...corner exercises fine...I could swear I saw that man smiling at me as I did my jumps...unseen went awfully but then it did for everyone...and pointe was excellent. I did my pirouettes perfectly,_ he thought smugly.

He finished his bottle of water, and got back into his casual clothes. Finally it was over. No more worrying. Well, unless he got an interview. But he probably wouldn't. He left the room and followed other people back to the reception, where they were greeted fondly by parents. His mother came up to him.

"How did it go?"

"Fine."

"Good. Good."

And they made their way out to the car. In the back of his mind John was wandering about how Sherlock had actually done... but quickly removed the thought. He would be better off forgetting about that arrogant boy.

 

Two weeks later, and John was sweating once again, even though he had only woken up an hour ago. Today was the day. The day that all the letters came through either alerting them to a success or a failure. The letter was due in 5 minutes.

"Come on John, at least eat some toast" his sister was saying, pushing a plate towards him. He begrudgingly ate a slice, and stared out the window.

The doorbell rang.

"Oh John this is it!" cried his sister, racing to the door, snatching the letter out of the postman's hand, racing back into the kitchen, and shoving it in his face.

"Alright Harry calm down" he said. Hands shaking, he slowly broke open the envelope.

"Come on come on come on!" she said, banging her hands on the table.

Slowly John read the letter.

_Dear Mr Watson,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have gained an interview with us..._

Harry squealed.

"You got it John! You got it!"

As if in a dream, John reread the first sentence, and then the whole letter.

There was no mistake.

He was going in for an interview.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!  
> Please leave comments and kudos if you want!  
> Check out my other fics!  
> Next chapter coming soon.


End file.
